


Horrible Idea

by KazeChama



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cutting, Gen, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Meaningful Talk, Nightmares, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazeChama/pseuds/KazeChama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has a problem with lyrium addiction. He asks Cassandra for help when he hallucinates about a certain elf with lyrium tattoos.</p><p>Alternatively:<br/>This is a story about change and redemption. One's journey is just beginning while the other is nearly at the end of his. Both made many mistakes and some terrible choices. They find unlikely help in each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horrible Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Karaika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaika/gifts).



> One late evening I was chatting with Karai about how there are so few fanfics exploring the dynamics between Cullen and Fenris. I had a horrible idea. The idea turned into a story. The working title "Horrible Idea" kinda fit as the actual title too.  
> \----------------------------------------------------  
> Prologue  
> It’s the Age of Dragons; demons and darkspawn terrorised folks everywhere. The Fifth Blight swept through the lands of Thedas a decade ago and wrought death where it could. Political conflicts have polarised the society and culminated in uprisings everywhere. The religious leadership of the Chantry has been questioned and challenged by one memorable incident - the explosion destroying Kirkwall's Chantry. The Order of the Templars has tried to reign in the rebelling mages, but this fire couldn't be stifled. A breach between this world and the Fade that allowed demons to pass and threatened to destroy the world was cause to re-establish the Inquisition. Each member of the Inquisition has their own problems that must not be allowed to hinder their work. The safety of Thedas depends on them.

He takes a deep breath. Stares at the wooden wall of his bookcase.

He stopped taking lyrium. It's been days and weeks now. It still hurts. A lot.

On days when he has to concentrate from dawn until very late, he takes a healing potion against the pain. However - it's still there, in the back of his skull. It's a tightness in his chest, a tension in his arms and legs that never goes away. He's trying not to take too many healing potions, because to get them he has to go where the lyrium potions are stored as well. It's not the same as what he used to take but it's too close for comfort.

He takes a clove out from his pocket. He always has cloves on him. The kitchen doesn't ask why he's taken so many. They probably think he has toothache. He puts the clove in his mouth and chews. It helps against the pain a little and his breath smells nice. He wants to laugh at the absurdity and ram the cloves into his hand. Like nails. Or hit his fingers with a hammer.

He takes off his left glove and spreads the fingers on the table.

Each.

One.

Being.

Flattened.

BAM.

He punctuates the words by imitating a hit on each finger, then slams his fist on the table. He pushes his left hand into the table and slides it forward feeling the texture of the wood. It's cold and his hands barely register the uneven surface. He probably wouldn't feel it if he caught a splinter. He rubs his hand against the wood harder, the movement fractured because of the cramp that engulfs his body.

He chews more.

His anguish is not monotonous anymore. He has better and worse days.

Having heard that Hawke and her companion are around made him remember Kirkwall again. He tries very hard not to think of Kirkwall because of all the evil that happened there. Of every pain inflicted, of the mages made tranquil or murdered. And he helped. While taking lyrium. All the pain he caused. Is this him atoning for it?

Is he feeling like this to atone for his sins?

No. He's suffering so he is not dependent on lyrium anymore. So he can serve the Inquisition better. Lyrium is his biggest weakness now.

Lyrium. In the potions. In the earth. Under his skin. Crawling.

Lyrium in skin. White and beautiful, snaking up arms, adorning a lean back. He wants to lick it. He can taste it in his mouth. He licks his exposed hand. Salty and not much like lyrium.

The taste of his hand makes him stop for a second. He didn't realise it was possible to sweat in these cold temperatures.

Would Hawke's elf sweat too? Lithe body slick with heat against his own. He could taste it, the lyrium in the elf's skin. He could run his hands up and down, gripping at the elf's hips and pulling him close. Would the elf writhe? Try to escape or get closer? Maybe he would want to be feasted upon. Maybe he would moan and enjoy it. Scream in agony and pleasure mixed as Cullen would slowly cut the lyrium markings free.

His knife is a heavy weight in his right hand; he is slowly dragging it across his skin. Just to feel the sting of the blade. Breaking the skin would come later. When the elf was too tired and pliant in his hands.

Would he cut across the markings or along them? Would the lyrium flow freely or would Cullen have to suck it out? He licks the skin again. He would suck it out, too greedy to wait for it to drip.

The idea makes him light-headed and he pushes the knife into his skin. Blood. He cuts himself and breaks the spell.

He shakes his head. He is Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's armies, former Templar. He is not taking lyrium anymore. His palm is bleeding. He cut himself while thinking about that white-haired elf from Kirkwall.

This is not good. He nearly lost it during a lyrium-craving fit. What if, next time, this happens outside his office and he cuts someone open? He has to talk to Cassandra. Preferably right now.

It's still light outside. Cullen puts on his glove, pushes himself away from the desk and walks very fast towards the training grounds.

"No." She speaks as soon as Cullen gets her away from the practice ring.

"But I-" _didn't even say anything._

"You are here because you think you are unfit to command the Inquisition's armies." Cassandra gives him a stern look. "I don't agree with that opinion."

Cullen tries to come up with a counter-argument. He feels a blush rising at memories of what he imagined. "I think I hallucinated meeting someone from my past in Kirkwall." That's a very safe statement.

"Thinking of your ex-lover is not a sign of going mad."

Oh Maker. Oh, no. Cassandra interpreted his blush to mean- Oh. Sweet Maker.

"No." That was a bit too quick. "Not a lover, just a friend, but- " He cuts off, too embarrassed to admit that he imagined torturing a person.

"No matter. Hawke is here and that brought up memories and what-ifs from your time in Kirkwall." She turns to go back to practice and says as an afterthought: "Come to me again _when_ Hawke is not around to remind you, and you still imagine this person."

Two weeks pass. Cullen is walking from his regular chess game with Dorian. His mind still wanders through the garden. Today he noticed the elfroot pots the Inquisitor ordered to be planted. The plants are growing strong. He could have chewed on the raw leaves instead of clove to relieve his withdrawal induced pain. He thinks about going to the garden at night and collecting a few leaves when he sees the elf again.

Everything around him slows down. Cullen's whole world revolves only around that image in front of him.

"I- ah. Wasn't expecting to see you here. C-" The elf starts.

"This time." Cullen mutters as he walks briskly past the elf, grabbing his hand. "This time she will have to listen." He's ignoring what the elf has to say. He's way too real this time. Cullen is definitely going crazy. He holds his arms close to his body, the left keeping his sword from swinging too much, the right dragging the elf.

"She will have to," he stresses the verb as he mumbles.

Nobody stops Cullen as he walks past the yard. Why would they? He walks with purpose.

"Co-commander?" the elf tries again.

"Not this time. You won't seduce me this time." Cullen is adamant.

"I- What?" They cross the entrance to the dungeons. Cullen turns and walks to the back, where no prisoners are held. He pushes the elf into a cell and closes the door behind them. Cullen turns towards him with a hard look.

"I don't think these are the guest quarters," the elf says.

Cullen shakes his head. This whole situation feels wrong and unreal. "You are talking."

Now the elf looks directly at him. "Why is that such a surprise?"

"You weren't talking last time." Cullen prods at the cuts under his glove. He slowly peels it off. The glove falls down to be forgotten. "When I cut myself, you weren't talking." The first cut would be healed over by now if Cullen didn't scratch it open every other day. It's going to leave a scar.

"I - When the thirst for lyrium got really bad, I -" Cullen breaks off. He's not proud of what he did. Poking his fingers until they bleed or cutting open his palm to bring himself out of the lyrium trance. He always cuts his left hand, the hand that wields his shield. As he pulls out his knife, he tries to speak again. His voice breaks at the first syllable. He's not looking at the elf. Why would he look at an illusion.

But the elf pushes him against the wall, one hand at Cullen's throat, the other raised for a blow. Cullen's hands shake now.

"Just- cut-" He lifts the knife, barely holding onto it; the elf glares, but doesn't stop him. He wants to reach his left hand, but there's an arm blocking the way. So he presses the blade to his cheek. "Cut through...the illusion."

The knife is catapulted out of his hand before he can give himself another scar. Cullen thinks there are tears on his face now.

"Too much," he whispers. His gaze lands on the elf. White markings faintly glowing against a neck. Cullen reaches out to touch that neck.

"Commander! Snap out of it." The elf shakes him. Why does he shake him?

The elf lets go of him. Cullen closes the distance between them, mouthing the elf's neck. He feels the Adam's apple bob as the elf swallows uncomfortably. It tastes like skin. But it's cold and nothing like his own skin. Cullen's knees give in and he slides to the floor crying.

"You're real. You really are here, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." Whatever other retort the elf wants to make, he leaves it unspoken. Instead he drops to the floor next to Cullen.

"I just- I-" Cullen chokes on his words. He barely whispers. "I'm sorry."

The elf doesn't know what to do, so he just stays there, on the floor with the crying Commander he barely knows.

"Templars take lyrium to channel their abilities. To be able to fight mages." It's not a question, so Cullen doesn't answer.

"But you get addicted." Still technically not a question but something in the intonation suggests otherwise. So Cullen nods.

"And you stopped taking it." The gaze directed at Cullen could pierce through armour and probably also the wall behind Cullen. His eyes widen at the comment. He stops shaking. He didn't even know he was shaking. He stops breathing. The elf's next words are barely a whisper.

"And it hurts."

It does. It hurts so much, and someone finally understands. Cullen exhales. "Yes."

The elf turns, leans with his back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Cullen, and takes the knife Cullen dropped at some point. He takes Cullen's gloveless hand in his own and sets the blade against his skin. With the thumb holding Cullen's hand, he traces the fresh scabs. "You haven't been cutting yourself for long." And Cullen is too tired to care if the elf cuts him.

"Why are you still here?" Cullen asks, his breath still uneven, but calm enough for words.

"I don't know." The elf leans over and puts the knife into the scabbard at Cullen's hip.

"Maybe I know how it is to feel the lyrium burn under your skin, wanting to cut it out." His left hand still holds Cullen's. There are lyrium markings on each long elven finger. Cullen's urge to cut ebbs away as he stares at the white lines next to his knuckles.

"Would you-" He doesn't know how to ask.

"My markings?" The elf seems to understand. He loosens his grip around Cullen's hand to look at his palms. Cullen just nods.

"I looked into it. I can't." He clenches his fists. "I can't remove them. I wouldn't survive the procedure. I'm stuck with them until I die." The elf is thinking " _You_ can free yourself."

"But it hurts." The thought is first and foremost on Cullen's mind. All day long. He hasn’t told anyone, not even Cassandra . She knows that it hurts. Cullen knew it would hurt when he decided to stop taking lyrium. But saying it out loud? That shocks Cullen speechless.

"So do my markings."

Cullen regards the elf with a look. This doesn't sound like something he says often. If he ever admitted it to anyone.

"I want to get past the pain. And the bottomless urge to just give in. I've-" Cullen wants to say it. But it's hard. "I've- imagined. Cutting you... open... to get to the ly-lyrium under your skin."

It feels weird to admit this. He skips the torture bits, but he wanted to say it. He feels like he has to, given how he pulled the elf into a cell. "I'm sorry...I dragged you here."

The elf is quiet for a long while; but he doesn't move away.

"I-" It seems to be his turn to struggle with words now. "I tried." The elf breaks off again. "I'm too sober for this." He mutters under his breath.

"Cutting yourself to get through a tough time doesn't help. You won't get the lyrium from under your skin." He takes Cullen's hand again. Cullen had been absently prodding the scabs again.

"Why are you telling me this? I just admitted to-" Cullen yelps as the elf pokes Cullen's scabs hard.

"Because I see you, and part of me thinks we are the same. The other part is jealous."

Cullen swallows. "That...I might break free from the lyrium while you can't."

"Precisely." The elf nods and there is a lifetime of bitterness behind this one affirmative.

They stay in the dungeon cell until Cullen's cheeks are dry. Then they go to Cullen's office. They don't really speak. But they understand that something is still there. To be spoken about. To be scratched out from under their skin.

Cullen looks through his bookshelf before offering the elf a cup, who takes it with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you always keep wine in your office?"

"For special occasions, yes." Cullen is not in the least shaken by the question, uncorking the bottle.

"Hm. Do you often have them? Special occasions?" The elf stares at the bottom of his cup. There's more to the question, Cullen understands that much.

He mulls over the words and pours the wine. "Luckily no. And before I go to the wine I try chewing on cloves."

"Cloves?" The elf asks with a raised eyebrow. He doesn't drink yet.

"They help ease the 'special occasion'." By this point Cullen is fairly certain both of them understand that the special occasions in question are a metaphor for outbursts of pain. "I command armies. I have to keep my mind sober."

The elf makes a non-committal but understanding noise. He regards Cullen over the edge of his cup. "I used to drink straight from the bottle."

Cullen swallows empty air. That was the missing puzzle piece. "What made you stop?" He's not asking when the elf switched to using cups because that's not what that last statement meant.

"Circumstances." The elf doesn't explain more and Cullen doesn't press.

Cullen regards the time. It's surely dark by now. They spent a considerable amount of time in the cells. "Do you want to sleep over here?" It will be hard for the elf to find accommodation this late.

"I'm flattered Commander, but not interested." He smirks.

Cullen opens his mouth and closes it again. The smirk indicates that the elf misunderstood on purpose.

"You keep calling me Commander. Back in Kirkwall I was just a Knight Captain." He asks instead.

"True." The elf gulps down his drink. "I heard someone in the yard call you Commander."

"It's Cullen. Cullen Rutherford." He lifts the bottle to offer more. The elf holds his cup for Cullen to pour.

"Fenris." He hesitates.

"I remember you always staying by Hawke's side. The guards just called you 'the elf' or 'Hawke's elf'." Cullen considers his own cup, but decides he has had enough for the evening. Staring at a cup is more preferable than meeting Fenris' gaze though.

"That's rude. But easier to remember."

There is a scowl followed by a smirk behind those words that makes Cullen look up. "You're not mad?"

"Of course I am. But it's true in a way." Fenris drowns his cup. "I am hers."

There's a question Cullen wants to ask but doesn't know how to. "I thought she arrived with... her companion."

"So she is here. Good." Nothing else registers. Fenris is just happy to know where Hawke is. There's a hint of a smile on his face.

"You're not...?" _not together._

"No."

Fenris takes a gulp of the wine straight from the bottle Cullen had left on the table. "She- Hawke, she is-"

"You don't have to tell me." Cullen considers taking the wine away.

"It's hard. And I want to tell someone." Fenris keeps his hand where it is, but doesn't show any inclination to drink. It's as if the cool glass is his anchor to the present.

Cullen looks at those loose fingers around the bottle and remembers the talk about 'special occasions'. "Someone... who might understand?"

"Yes." Fenris breathes out.

"I'll- Thanks. For the confidence. I'll- do my best." Cullen absently fingers the hilt of his knife, but Fenris is lost in his own thoughts and doesn't notice. Both needed a way to escape, to cope, and both chose poorly.

"The lyrium always hurts."

Cullen just nods in agreement.

"And my bitterness...I am not a nice person." Fenris tilts the bottle to the side, but doesn't drink. Not yet anyway.

Cullen dares to ask what has been on his mind for a while. "You've been patient with me. For no reason at all."

"I've learned from my mistakes." Fenris' fingers fall to the table, still touching the bottle loosely.

"Ah." Cullen can only imagine what mistakes have prompted this patience.

"I could have had it all with Hawke. But I didn't think I could have that much happiness. With everything that happened."

"With Hawke?" Cullen thinks of the exploded Chantry and the resulting uprising.

"Before I met her," Fenris looks at his hands, "These markings, I didn't want them. Or apparently I did. I don't remember."

"I feel like there's a painful and long story behind this." The Templars had spun ideas about those white lines, before and after they'd learned that those markings were lyrium.

"You don't know how right you are."

The bitterness in Fenris' voice stops Cullen from asking for details. He changes the topic to a more recent event. "So you left Hawke? After everything- The Chantry. After...Meredith?"

"Years before that. I- Well, she chose another."

What does one answer to that? "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I wanted her to be happy." Fenris leans forward, hands on his knees, and more importantly, he finally lets go of the wine.

"I know that feeling." Cullen feels a need to grab the bottle; he slightly hesitates before talking. "There was a girl, a mage, at the Ferelden Circle I was serving at." His tongue is heavy and he stops to gather his thoughts. He hasn't told anyone about this before. Tonight is strange.

"She hurt the person you liked?" Fenris supplies helpfully.

"No! She was-" How can Cullen admit it now when he had kept quiet about this for a decade? "I liked her. But it could never have worked."

"Ah. I see."

Fenris couldn't possibly understand but Cullen didn't have the presence of mind to tell him more. He felt like so many things regarding this mage and their circumstances were his fault. Considering he had been in a position of power over her, it probably was his fault. He refocused on the person opposite to him.

"Why are you here?"

"Hawke." This one word explained it all. "I lost her after Kirkwall. We might not be in a relationship, but I want to protect her."

"You love her."

"I do."

"Have you told her?"

"No."

Cullen grabs his empty cup and swirls it around. "I don't think the Champion of Kirkwall would appreciate you wanting to protect her."

Fenris just nods. "I know."

This discussion had taken strange turns and Cullen finds himself lost. "I don't know where to go from here."

"I thought you lived here."

Cullen stares for a moment. Speechless. "Was that- Was that a joke?"

"And you thought I was always serious." Fenris delivers this with a deadpan face that makes Cullen think of Cassandra.

"I did. You always seem serious." But Cullen laughs and Fenris joins in too.

By now it's past midnight and they probably won't be able to find quarters for Fenris this late. Cullen doesn't want to let him wander around looking for a place to camp. The soldiers probably won't like it. After thinking it through Fenris agrees to go up into Cullen's quarters.

"You have only one bed." It's more of a statement than a question when Fenris regards the room Cullen sleeps in.

Cullen can only shrug. "Skyhold is short on beds, yes. I wouldn't want luxuries when my men are camping in tents."

What might have been a chuckle escapes Fenris. "Fair enough. Left or right side of the bed?"

Cullen is amazed how easily Fenris accepts sharing a bed. He has a vague idea that Fenris didn't grow up in luxury even for elven standards, but he doesn’t prod.

"Right."

"Fine by me." Fenris puts away his sword and armour and lies down without further ado. "Good night, Commander."

Cullen has to laugh a little at the use of his title. It reminds him that they are at war, and that this is not a night full of fun but just a practicality; a way to make things work with limited resources.

"Good night," he mumbles, before he too undresses and blows out the candles.

The bed isn't narrow, but it's not exactly a luxurious king size. At some point during the night, Cullen's nightmares make him thrash and fall down onto the floor. He had secretly hoped to have a break today. His nightmares are not always this violent. He is still shaking as he scrambles to sit upright. He is disoriented and tries to find his footing by grabbing the bed. What his hands find instead are lean muscles. He holds onto them.

He pushes his face against the body. Then he tenses up, realising there is wet blood on his face. His mind is still processing the dream. This flesh is no salvation. It's one of his fallen comrades.

"Uldred..." He's scared for his life now. He will be strong. He'll not succumb to the demons' visions. He knows-

"Be gone!" He tries to open his eyes, but all he sees is black. That's when he realises that he's still pushing his face into the body in front of him.

There's a hand on his shoulder.

"Cullen! Wake up."

It's Fenris' voice. That must mean it's also Fenris' blood on his face. Did he- did he have another lyrium dream and cut Fenris' veins this time? He touches the flesh with his hand.

It's mostly dry. So he checks his face for wetness. It's there but it's not blood. It's his tears.

He cries for all the Templars he couldn't save and all the mages he justified hurting because of his past failures.

"I'm- What did I do?" He tries to sum up all his wrong doings. List them in his mind.

But Fenris replies differently: "You fell from the bed because of a nightmare and started crying into my thigh."

Cullen presses his forehead into the sheets and lets out a heavy breath. He wonders briefly how he managed to roll over Fenris in his sleep to land on this side of the bed. His nightmares make him move around a lot.

Then he spills his heart out. It's the middle of the night and he barely knows Fenris, yet he talks about wanting to be a Templar since a very young age; how so many of his friends were killed by abominations and how after nearly starving himself in the clutches of demons the strict controlling of the mages set into place by his superior seemed like such a good idea. That is, until Meredith went crazy because of the red lyrium. Since then Cullen doubts the system that was the foundation of his life.

Fenris listens until the end without moving from the position on his back. "You want to feel lousy about hurting mages?" He fixes his gaze on the ceiling and elaborates further. "I wasn't actively hurting them but I didn't help them either. I believed for years that I was doing the right thing, that all mages, especially blood mages, are evil."

"But they...." Cullen tries to interject but Fenris isn't having none of it.

"My own sister, incidentally a mage, tried to sell me out to my former master, also a mage."

"I'm sor-"

"Don't. I don't want your pity." Fenris snarls back. He seems to weigh his words, considers if he should say them or not. Cullen sees the logic behind Fenris' words. Fenris got hurt by people so he hurt them back, trying to protect himself. However, Cullen is not prepared for what Fenris says next:

"You want absolution and forgiveness, but I'm not the one to give it to you."

Cullen raised his voice, shocked. "I'm not asking you to!"

Fenris somehow manages not to react to Cullen's anger when he speaks. "You are asking me. You told me about your past wrongdoings as if I could judge and pardon you."

"I- did."

"Listen." Fenris sits up and turns to Cullen. "I agreed with what Meredith did in Kirkwall. I know you did too."

"She was my Knight Commander and she tried to control a dire situation." Cullen is disgusted by himself. "I sound like I'm making excuses for her. I believed she was doing the right thing until she ordered us to kill every single mage." Cullen has to hold a hand in front of his mouth. He is getting sick just from those memories. "I've seen what mages are capable of doing."

"I have felt it on my own skin." The way how Fenris says _I_ , how he manages to wrap one sound into so much loathing and hatred is shocking.

"The m-" Cullen doesn't even know what he wants to ask. His hand reaches for Fenris' somehow.

Fenris continues. "It's not something a slave acquires for himself. These markings."

Slave. Fenris is a former slave. Cullen wasn't fully aware of this fact until now. The grip around Fenris' hand tightens. "So you think every mage should be locked up?"

Fenris hesitates. "I- have...Mages need to be contained so they don't hurt others."

Cullen points out. "They have power to destroy the world. And I think they need to be monitored in some way. But locked up?"

Fenris tenses. He looks like he might throw up as he says, "I've been locked up."

Cullen sees the parallels, but: "This is not the same. I don't want the mages to be chained like sl- slaves." He doesn't know if he should use that word in front of a former slave.

"Nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves their freedom of choice taken away." Fenris gets stuck.

Cullen bites his lip absently. "I guess you are not talking about the Qunari."

"No," Fenris answers curtly.

"What would you do then?" Fenris has the same flawed logic that plagued Cullen too. Mages are dangerous, but what kind of treatment is justified for someone having something they probably didn't even want? Can you lock up people who didn't choose to be born with magical abilities?

"I don't know."

The last sentence hangs between them for a while before Fenris drags Cullen up and under the covers. They both silently stare at the ceiling, still holding hands.

\- - - - - - -

They wake up and don't talk about what happened during the night. Maybe Fenris doesn't remember it? That's probably more Cullen's wishful thinking. Fenris goes to get himself accommodation and something to do. Cullen doesn't know if Fenris wants to join the Inquisition. They never talked about it. If his main goal is to meet Hawke, he doesn't have to get involved with the Inquisition itself.

The day passes slowly. Cullen has duties to fulfil, training and the usual chess game with Dorian. In the evening there's a knock on his door. Fenris comes over and sits opposite to Cullen, just like the night before. He hands Cullen a bunch of elfroot leaves. Cullen takes them gratefully. He didn't try picking up any, as Dorian would have noticed. He considers for a moment if he should offer Fenris wine, but instead points at his chess board. Fenris just shakes his head and instead asks about Cullen's day and his left palm. He leaves after an hour of talk.

The nightly visits repeat themselves over the course of a few weeks. By now Cullen always removes his gloves when Fenris comes over. Sometimes they talk until it is so late that Fenris just stays over in Cullen's bed. Other times they sit next to each other and hold hands, examining the scars, lines and markings of each other. Those are the moments Cullen looks forward to the most, because he can show Fenris that there are no new wounds.

The temptation to cut himself doesn't vanish, but now Cullen tries to run a blunt fingernail over his skin without drawing any blood. Or he prods at cuts from the training. He's learning how to focus despite the pain - the elfroot does seem to help too.

They don't discuss lyrium directly, and they don't drink wine. Cullen now prepares water they share. Fenris still often holds the bottle in a death grip when they end up talking about Kirkwall or slaves.

Mages are a topic that sometimes comes up, but they always skip any meaningful discussions. That is, until Cullen notices a detail on one report, and he has to ask.

"Hawke's companion...He's a mage?"

"He is." Fenris doesn't seem willing to share more.

Cullen swallows hard. Should he press for more? "There was a girl in the circle I was assigned to back in Ferelden. She is the one mage that I wasn't scared of."

Fenris just nods. "I think you mentioned her. Was this the person you liked?"

"Yes. I think that if I hadn't met her, and maybe fallen in love with her, I would have hated mages more." Cullen hopes to explain himself this way.

"Your point is?"

"That you maybe hate mages because one took the girl you liked?" Cullen winces. That was so badly phrased. He should have given this more thought before he started talking. "That was incredibly rude and stupid of me. I apologise."

"I see." Fenris scowls and his face darkens. Cullen had already apologised so he doesn’t know what to say next.

"You think that everything bad in my life was caused by mages?" Fenris has never been this angry in front of Cullen. It seems Fenris has a well of darkness to draw upon.

"You mentioned something along these lines, yes." Cullen wants to grip something to remind himself where and who he is. He’ become accustomed to holding a lean hand as his anchor instead of his knife and now he doesn't know what to do. He clasps his own hands together.

"Mages caused me a lot of pain, yes. And Anders definitely isn't the best example of a harmless mage. But Hawke chose her companion and I can't blame anyone that it wasn't me - but myself."

"What do you mean by that?" Cullen is genuinely startled.

"I've done so much wrong in my life, I didn't think I deserved Hawke and I left her. Maybe I really don't deserve her," Fenris continues.

"What do you mean Anders isn't a harmless mage? He is a healer. He tends to all the wounded we have, helping our own healers." As soon as Cullen learned about the mage, he also checked what kind of magic Anders specialises in.

"He is-" Fenris looks away. "Do you know who was responsible for the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry?"

"A mage gone crazy." Cullen supplies from the official report.

"A mage gone desperate while trying to help people and failing to make a difference."

"Anders?" Cullen barely dares to ask. Fenris only nods in affirmation.

"Why?"

"You've seen what Kirkwall had become. As have I. It wasn't right, but I felt what the Templars did was justified." Fenris considers his next words. "Anders...didn't agree."

"So he is to blame for the rebellions that burn through Thedas?"

"He was the spark, but the kindling was provided beforehand." Fenris doesn't add by whom.

"It sounds as if you agree with what he did!" Cullen can't keep the accusation from his tone.

Fenris slams his fist into the table. "I do not! But I've lived a comparable misery," he calms down a bit. "And my life on the run after Kirkwall made me see the parallels."

Fenris claws his fingernails into his forearms. "I just don't know how to deal with mages yet. There is so much destruction and desperation..." He grabs the bottle on the table and takes a long gulp. "Blarh. It's just water."

Cullen has wine in stock too, he just doesn't know if he should offer. Fenris doesn't ask for it.

"How to treat mages isn't our decision to make." Cullen stretches his hand out palm up in front of Fenris who takes it.

Cullen focuses his attention on that lithe hand. "Does it hurt when I run my finger along the markings?" He hovers with his thumb over the lines, mesmerised, not yet touching.

Fenris' shoulders shake on a silent bitter laugh. "Do you need to ask?"

No, he doesn't. Lyrium always hurts and Cullen knows this best. He strokes his fingers lightly across Fenris' palm.

"Have you talked to Hawke yet?"

"I've seen her," Fenris evades.

Cullen just nods. "So you have not talked yet."

"I've seen her smile and wave at someone, that's enough." There's a resolute fondness in Fenris' voice. He won't talk more about this.

After a couple of silent heartbeats, while Cullen is still holding his hand, Fenris detaches himself and leaves. Cullen puts his paperwork away and lies in his bed for hours before sleep claims him.

\- - - - - - -

The next morning Cullen decides to help matters out. He is pretty sure it is a bad idea, but he feels like he owes Fenris for his support. He is nervously organising the things on his desk when Fenris knocks.

"Come in and sit down. I have to go- I'll be back soon." Cullen practically runs away from his office.

He gets back in less than five minutes. As he opens the door, Fenris is next to his chessboard, prodding one of the pawns with his finger. He looks up and sees who is besides Cullen. His face and posture go from disinterested through affection to defensive in the blink of an eye.

"Hawke.”

The woman next to Cullen smiles and storms inside the room. Cullen stays near the door, blocking Fenris' escape route.

"Fenris! I missed you! I didn't know you were in Skyhold until the Commander told me." Hawke is built like the warrior she is, Fenris looks petite next to her, especially as he is pulled into a hug.

Cullen watches them very closely. Fenris' features go soft when Hawke can't see him. He returns the hug, holds Hawke painfully close and swallows emptily.

Cullen turns to close the door behind him. "I'll leave you two to talk."

"No," Fenris says sternly. "You orchestrated this when I told you- When you knew- You called Hawke over without asking me, so you'll stay for the fallout." He looks grim and if Cullen knew Fenris better, he'd assume that him scared and wanting moral support.

Hawke just laughs and slaps Fenris on the back. "You haven't changed one bit. Still broody and easily pissed off."

It's obvious that Fenris wants to say something, but in the end he doesn't.

"Where have you been since I last saw you?" Hawke smiles with a warm fondness.

"Places." Fenris shrugs.

Cullen notices Fenris' hands clasping and opening repeatedly. He doesn't want to impose on this private moment and obviously Fenris doesn't want to be here, much less talk.

"I've-" Fenris tries again. "I've missed you."

They eventually do chat about the past, how Hawke has been running from place to place. Fenris relaxes in Hawke's presence. There's a hint of a smile on his face as he listens to Hawke talking, who gesticulates wildly. Their body language signals trust and openness. Cullen sees them fall back into the friendship they nurtured back in Kirkwall. Then Hawke mentions her time working with the Inquisition.

"Do you want to stay here, Fenris? You could help us." 'Us' off course doesn’t mean the Inquisition, but Hawke and her companion. This is the first time Anders is indirectly mentioned.

Silence spreads for a moment. Before Fenris can muster up a reply, he is interrupted by the opening door. Anders bursts into the room, panting.

Cullen hadn’t realized he has only talked to Hawke. It must look like they are all meeting behind Anders' back. The scene before his eyes is also conspiratorial– Cullen standing near the bookcase, leaning against a wall while Hawke has her arm over Fenris' shoulders pulling him close.

Anders starts to glow, his eyes turn blue and his voice rumbles deep, like it's not from this side of the veil. Cullen guesses this doesn't mean anything good, but judging by Hawke jumping up and Fenris looking for weapons this is definitely, seriously bad.

"Anders! Calm down." Hawke has both arms outstretched and visible. Each step is calculated and slow. "We were just talking."

The crackling light around Anders disappears. "They- It wasn't an ambush?"

Cullen can't understand why the Inquisition should ambush the Champion of Kirkwall. But being on the run for years does change ones perception of the world.

"The Commander here," Fenris spits in a tone Cullen hasn't heard before, "thought Hawke and I needed to catch up. But I think we are done here." Yet he shows no inclination to leave. The venom in his voice isn't directed at Cullen either.

Anders, calmer now, steps into the room.

"You haven't seen each other for three years. Fenris, Anders, don't you have anything to say to each other?" Hawke asks, measuring them both with a glance.

Fenris glares at Anders for a moment longer, before giving his attention to Hawke. His features soften for a moment. He looks down, evading all eyes in the room and considering.

"I- wanted to... apo-" he whispers. But it's too quiet.

"No words at all?" Hawke tries to coerce something out. Cullen thinks there was an apology on its way, but he wonders why. Fenris and Hawke seemed to have sorted out things about their relationship in the past. There was no awkward moment once they started talking. Who should Fenris want to apologise to? For what?

Fenris' glare returns in full force. Instead he spits out: "I have nothing to say to Anders."

Anders answers in a similar tone, "You haven't changed one bit. No wonder you're still running after Hawke."

"Anders! That was uncalled for." Hawke scolds him. Cullen wonders if it really was uncalled for.

"I had hoped that travelling through the lands and seeing mages - and slaves - fight for their freedom would have changed him, but I was wrong." Anders directs his little speech towards Hawke, completely ignoring Fenris. He takes a step closer to Hawke and away from the door, which is when Fenris practically runs out.

Hawke turns to Cullen. "Commander, I appreciate the opportunity. Thanks for telling me Fenris is in Skyhold." The fondness behind her words surprises Cullen.

"You care- I mean, I'm glad it somehow worked out. Do you think he hates me now?"

Anders snorts from near the door. "Is there anyone Fenris doesn't hate?"

Cullen knows for a fact, that this is not true, and judging from Hawke shaking her head, she knows it too. "Oh, Anders."

Cullen still has questions.

"Champion, one more thing?" Hawke turns to him, so Cullen continues. "After the Chantry exploded, you pushed strongly to not punish any of the mages."

Hawke speaks with the tone of a person used to give orders. "Killing someone doesn't solve the problem or undo the damage. As for Anders, he lives to make up for what he did." There is no doubt in her voice, her posture shows determination. She believes in her decision.

On the other hand, Anders' shoulders sag, his gaze fixates on the floor. Destroying the Kirkwall Chantry doesn't sit well with him. It shouldn't. His features are soft, the corners of his mouth dropped. "I'm very grateful to be given this chance."

Hawke nods but doesn't say more on the matter, just takes Anders' hand and drags him away. "Let's go. Good night, Commander. I appreciate what you did for Fenris."

\- - - - - - -

There's a knock on his office door. Cullen doesn't dare to hope who it might be.

"Yes?"

Cassandra opens the door, and Cullen tries not to look disappointed.

"Commander. How are your hallucinations?" Hawke left together with Anders, Dorian, the Inquisitor and a few soldiers for a mission three days ago. As for Fenris, he didn't visit Cullen for over a week. Cullen isn't even sure if he is still in Skyhold.

"No more hallucinations since the first time." Should Cullen mention it? "I have found ways to deal with the withdrawal. Some...are a bit destructive."

Cassandra looks him up and down. "Are you drinking too much?"

"No!" Cullen is taken aback. Awkward silence stretches.

"Did you replace one addiction with another?" suggests Cassandra.

"No..." Cullen mutters. He has trouble voicing it. He just peels off his left glove and shows Cassandra the mostly healed cuts. Even though he has been very tempted to add new ones directly after Fenris' last visit.

"Where else?" Cassandra asks matter-of-factly.

"Just this. I'm trying not to, but sometimes the temptation is strong." Cullen's shoulders sag. It's not just the urge to cut, but the lyrium. It's a baseline pressure in his skull, even on his best days. Sometimes, he absently plays with the hilt of his knife. He’s noticed that the bad days are fewer and the periods between them more stretched out. He now has hope to overcome his addiction. He is slowly learning how to deal with the bad days. That's probably why he can show Cassandra the cuts now.

"Nonsense. You just need a distraction. Read a good book." Cassandra knows it's not simple to extinguish a problem when it becomes too prominent, but killing off a bad habit when it just started is easier than battling lyrium.

Cullen warms up to the idea fast. "Do you have any recommendations? What do you read?"

At this question Cassandra turns red. "Nothing that would appeal to your tastes."

Cullen is mesmerised by the sight of a flustered Cassandra. He feels sorry for her. He should run now before Cassandra blushes even brighter. "In that case," Cullen pushes himself off the desk, "I shall take a look in the library right now."

Cassandra might have a point. Cullen has a lot to do, but in the evening when all is done, he is alone with his thoughts and those stray towards bad places.

Dorian will be gone for a while too, so Cullen has now more free time now. He'll add a round or two in the training ring. It boosts morale and exhausts him, so his thoughts won't needlessly wander.

A good book will be a nice addition to his day. Cullen has high hopes as he opens the library door. What he doesn't expect to find in the library is Fenris. Part of him is happy to know that he stayed in Skyhold. Most of him is embarrassed for how they last parted ways. He slowly approaches Fenris.

"I am-" _...sorry? Happy to see you? Embarrassed?_ "I shouldn't have..." Cullen pretends to look up a book next to Fenris. It's easier to breach the subject this way.

"You did what you thought was right," Fenris mumbles into his book. "In a way you weren't wrong. I am not sure whether I should be grateful for having talked to Hawke or angry that you went over my head."

Cullen just nods. He wants to tell Fenris so much; none of it seem appropriate and somehow he already said it all. Instead he opts for the safe topic: "Cassandra said I should read something to distract myself from... you know." He gestures with his left hand.

"Did it get worse? Since-" Fenris cuts off and closes his book. He seems at loss for words.

"There's no new cuts." Cullen doesn't want to lie but he can't deny the help Fenris' presence provided, and how acutely he felt Fenris' absence this last week. "What book are you reading?"

Surprisingly Fenris gets flustered and evades Cullen's gaze. "I am reading the rules for chess."

Cullen can't name the feeling in his chest. It expands but doesn't suffocate him. It's warm and big and special. Fenris had seemed dismissive when Cullen suggested chess, but he did prod the chess pieces given a chance. That he would want to learn chess _just for Cullen_ \- a small voice in the back of his head whispers - it means so much.

"I've seen you play with that man with the weird moustache and it seemed fun." Fenris' eyebrows are pulled together; he is concentrating on his wording. His face is not contorted with disgust and that gives Cullen the courage to ask:

"Would you- Would you like me to teach you?"

Fenris nods and smiles. "Yes. I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot to MirellaPryce and Lingwiloke for betaing this. You guys rock so much.
> 
> Comments, kudos are highly appreciated and concrit is welcome. Thanks for reading <3


End file.
